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Edward considered himself a gregarious sort, in general. He was friendly with many of his fellow costumed criminals, and often on good working terms at that, despite his frequent cowardice and disloyalty and double-crossings. They were all equally willing to throw one another to the proverbial wolves, after all, especially when that wolf happened to be of the batty variety.
Selina, for one, he worked especially well with. Their styles complimented one another well, and he could play the distract while she used the occasion to nab something they both needed.
Harleen was easy to like, though hard to work into plans. She was a wild card, through and through, and a hopeless romantic to the bone. Edward had never been good at predicting relationship developments, and her ever-shifting stance with her jester of a beau and the tentative something budding with Pamela had him feeling a bit of motion sickness.
Being friendly with Pamela came with… challenges, he liked to say. She was part and parcel with the other girls, having a soft spot for a pretty face, but she had a disdain for humanity in general and for men in particular. It was better, really, to be off of her radar completely, to be merely in danger of becoming collateral damage, but being close to her favorite humans put him in her sights more often than not.
And unlike the too-forgiving Harleen and business-minded Selina, she held a hell of a grudge.
While he was well aware of her vengeful tendencies, and of what he'd done to upset her most recently, the current predicament caught him admittedly off-guard. See, she'd already taken her proverbial pound of flesh from him, using him as a test subject for a round of plant hybrids with unusual effects on the human psyche. She'd used a bit of his blood for… some dubious purpose, and had loosed them on him, one after another. One caused him instant full-body paralysis, another a hot itching under the skin that made him feel a manic compulsion to do anything to end the sensation, another that turned his skin to bark and left him cracking in low humidity for weeks after.
It was… a fair punishment, to be honest. He'd used her as both bait and switch in a fairly spectacular puzzle, using his framework knowledge of how her biology functioned to take an educated guess at what she could survive, but she hadn't felt the same way about his margin of error and had, flesh still softening into sickly green sludge on one half of her acid-melted snarl, vowed to use him in the same way.
He'd assumed, apparently incorrectly, that the first round of testing-slash-punishment would be the end of it.
Now, he regretted not continuing his Ivy-based paranoia and thorough searches of all equipment.
See, the majority of his current plans had gone off without a hitch. He'd set up the clues, sent off a riddle to the Commissioner, and began laboriously making his way past Wayne Enterprises' unnecessarily complex security protocols while the Bat would be busy chasing his tail.
It should have all been smooth sailing once he'd picked up the E.M.P. device from R&D. He should have been home free, able to use the very device he was nicking to get himself back out of the building the short way.
He should have, had Pamela not beat him to his prize.
He'd approached the security checkpoint, depressed the switch, and come away with a hand covered in unidentifiable sticky ooze. The device had still worked, shutting down the checkpoint and all computers between him and the door, so he'd assumed the ooze had been some sort of material left over during the prototyping process. An adhesive, perhaps, or industrial lubricant.
The itching had begun on his way back to his hideout. By the time he was tucked safely away, the prototype sitting at his desk while he rinsed his hands aggressively, it had spread across his skin, crawling through his veins and numbing his fingertips, and he recalled the sensation vividly.
Ivy.
He cursed. What had been the antidote for this one? Was it the pill, or the spray? He couldn't recall. It had been difficult to concentrate. It was difficult to concentrate, and only getting worse by the minute.
He shucked his blazer, tossing it over the plush couch gracing the center of the room. The heat was growing stifling. Had the air conditioning broken? No, that couldn't be it. It had been pleasantly cool today. Up until the evil goop, at least.
He tossed his hat to join the blazer, and ran his hands through his hair. It hadn't been like this last time, had it? The itchy one had been itchy, had given him a weird sort of energy, but hadn't made him hot. He felt almost drunken with it, foggy and uncoordinated.
The numbness had spread to his lips. He ran a finger across them mindlessly, pacing around the room. Something had to be done. He couldn't just go on like this. There had to be a cure, a countertoxin, something. He'd been… doing something, probably.
The heist! Shit! Batman would be just behind him! Unless he got the thingie to the place, the whole thing would be kaput!! He needed to-
He needed to-
He just needed to lie down for a moment. He was feeling dizzy, now. It was the heat, it must be.
He lowered himself to the couch, sinking into its plush cushions. The shoes went first, kicked off one at a time, possibly scuffing the nice new shine on them. He didn't care to check. His fingers were already working the buttons of his vest, sliding on the tiny catches, fingers shaking.
At the lowest one, his knuckles brushed low on his stomach, and a shiver raced through his entire body.
Oh.
Well, that was a new one. Maybe he should have expected it, what with Pamela's thing with pheromones and her own sex appeal, but he hadn't known this particular effect was in her repretoire. Certainly, she'd never subjected him to it, at least.
It was without his entirely conscious consent that the hand abandoned its task, the last vest button hanging halfway done up, to stroke along the zip of his slacks. He was startled to find the fabric already tenting under his touch, electric in its intensity, even with so gentle a brush. It was like nothing he'd ever dealt with before. His mind was blank for once in his life, overwhelmed with the sensations he could coax with little effort.
His unoccupied hand tugged his shirt from the waistband and slipped under. His fingers were freezing on his overheated skin. His nipple was at pert attention long before his touch brushed past.
He pinched, let out a surprised moan, and something nearby clattered to the floor.
Eyes bleary, he blinked over at the noise. The E.M.P. he'd stolen was tipping to a stop next to his discarded shoes. Another pair of boots rested there, black, like nothing he owned, shadowed from behind by a drape of dark fabric.
Slowly, he lifted his gaze, terror bleeding ice into his heated veins, and there stood Batman, frozen stock still and staring.
"You're here," the Dark Knight croaked out dumbly.
"You shouldn't have touched that." Edward's voice came out breathy. It was then that he realized neither of his hands had moved, still teasing himself, in Batman's full view. The revelation was not enough to make him stop, though, part of him always excited to be caught. "Pammy put some sort'a goop on it."
Batman shot a glance down to his glove. The palm was iridescent with the sickly green sap, and when he reflexively wiped it away on his thigh, it spread into a shiny coating.
"You'll wanna wash it. Soapy water. Gotta sink somewhere. Don't wanna- don't wanna end up like me." Fumbling at his waistband, unable to get the button unhooked, the sensations at his nipples too thrilling to interrupt just to lend a second hand. It was a frustration he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy and, well, here his worst enemy was.
"What is it?"
The question didn't quite make sense. Had Edward asked something? He couldn't remember. All he knew was he was burning these stupid pants the second he could get them off his body. He needed, needed, to get a hand on his cock, quickly, or the heat would boil him alive, he was sure.
The sink squeaked on, the flowing of water reminding him of washing his own hands before. It hadn't helped. "Pammy's been experimenting. Some itchy itchy stuff. She had a pill maybe, or a spray, that made it go away before. Now it makes you hot. So hot. Sooooooo so so super hot."
The button finally gave way, and he forced the zip open with the urgency his wrist pushed past.
"Fuck, you're hot. How does anyone keep their hands off you?" That had to have been what he was talking about, right? Once the admission was out there, he second-guessed himself. It'd be really embarrassing if he'd just come out and said that, unprompted, to Batman himself.
"Something's wrong with you, Edward. The medical team over at the G.C.P.D. will take care of it."
Batman hovered, reluctant to reach out for him. His gloves were soaking wet, as were his pants. Edward wondered if they'd stick to his thighs if he tried to peel them off. The fabric was clingy enough already, wasn't it? This was just unfair.
"Will you-" Batman cleared his throat. "Will you get your hand out of your pants?"
Edward grinned. He had a one-up on the self-assured vigilante, for once. Even if it was Pamela's doing and completely out of his control, it felt nice. Felt good. He squeezed at the cock in his grasp. "Sure thing, Batman. Just offer me a trade?"
"What is it you want?"
Batman sounded wary. Edward giggled at the sound, then giggled harder at the breathy sound of his own voice, then found he couldn't stop, hysterical with excitement. He pulled the hand free, palm slick with sweat and pre, and reached for the wet spot on Batman's leg. God, how he wanted to make that spot worse. To hump his leg like a dog in heat until he ruined the ridiculous Batsuit, that symbol of law and order standing against everyone trying to make real change in this city, or those trying to make real change. He giggled again at the mental pun, vowing to use it in a riddle later. Batman would appreciate it. He must keep that punny little twerp around for something, after all.
Batman had his wrists in a tight grip. When had that happened? Edward's palm was covered in something slick and honey-scented. His soap? The itchy feeling was back, though. He wasn't allergic to this soap, was he?
Batman switched to holding both his wrists in one hand. Edward shuddered. Big hands, strong. He could use him as a toy, if he felt so inclined. Exhilarating.
There was a clinking of metal, and a handcuff snapped around one wrist. "Ooh, kinky."
"I'm arresting you. You broke into a business and stole a valuable piece of technology. This is not-"
Edward slipped from the first cuff as Batman went to buckle the second. He slid his fingers along Batman's jaw, the only bare inches of skin he ever allowed, feeling the scratch of barely-grown stubble, the twitch of muscle as his jaw clenched, the gentle warmth of his skin. His other hand was easier to free, Batman too surprised to fight back, and Edward could finally cup his face, reverently, the way he'd often imagined doing, the way he'd never been able to with the way the vigilante always burst in, fists swinging.
He tried to lean in for a kiss, but Batman jerked away.
"You're not yourself right now, Edward. I won't let you do something you'll regret."
Regret? How could he possibly regret this? It was the only thing he wanted, the only thing he'd ever wanted.
Batman's cheek was smeared with something slick, faintly green. Edward liked green.
He leaned in again, and Batman turned his head away, giving Edward the perfect angle to swipe his tongue across the sticky patch. It tasted sparkly, like cinnamon maybe, and also super super gross, like soap.
"Ack," Edward reacted eloquently, wiping his tongue down with two fingers. It helped with the taste, but not with the itching starting anew there. This stuff really got everywhere, huh? Like glitter.
Batman wiped at his face, only succeeding in smearing more of the goop from his glove onto his skin. "I see what you meant by 'itchy'," he was muttering.
"The itchy goes away," Edward consoled him. Already, the itching in his tongue was fading, leaving behind a tingling zinging of sensation. His fingers were beginning to feel incredible there, and he built up a slow stroking rhythm with them.
Abruptly, the hand was jerked from his mouth. "And it leaves you like this," Batman surmised, astutely.
"Look at you, smarty pants! Figured it out by yourself, did you?" Edward giggled. "How 'bout a prize?"
"What's the antidote? You said Ivy had given it to you before?"
All these questions. There was no reason Batman should be asking so many questions, not when he was holding Edward's wrist like that, making him think about how easily Batman could toss him to the cushions, how hard he could make it to escape him.
"Fuck me," Edward requested. "Please?"
"And that-" Batman swallowed. Behind his mask, his eyelashes fluttered. Such pretty eyes, Edward had always thought. Such a shame to hide a pretty face. "-Will that fix it?"
"Yesss," Edward moaned. That was the only thing that would fix the heat in his veins, he was sure of it. If only Batman would touch him, everything would be okay. "Need you in me. Right now."
"Right. Okay." Batman nodded once, decisively. He let go of Edward, letting him have his arm back.
Edward didn't want his arm back! He wanted Batman to touch him! He lunged forward, arms flung around Batman's neck, and this time, he wasn't stopped from taking that kiss. Desperate, sloppy, too excited for coordination, he pressed his lips and teeth and tongue everywhere he could manage, until Batman began to return the favor. A hot tongue licked along his tingling one, and he let out a whining keen, digging his fingers into Batman's shoulders and hooking his legs around his back. Tugged off-balance, Batman crashed into him, pinning him heavily to the couch. He tried to right himself, but Edward refused to budge an inch, keeping them pressed into each other from mouth to hip, finally, finally getting some blessed pressure back onto his cock. He ground up into Batman's body, like he could press them any closer together just by will alone. Just a little more, he was sure, and he'd be ruining the Batsuit in an all-new way. He could feel it.
"Wait. Ed- let me get the belt-" Batman was muttering, lips pressed to his throat. His hands dove between them, squeezing through the narrow space. His bare knuckles brushed Edward's stomach, where the shirt had ridden up. When had the gloves come off? He needed to be watching Batman's hands better. They were very nice hands.
In a sudden series of uncomfortable scratching movements, the utility belt was yanked out from between them and dropped on the floor. Batman's hands, his blessed, beautiful hands, returned to Edward's body. They slipped beneath his shirt, stroking up the bare skin of his back, holding them close together. Edward's hands were jealous. Why should he get to touch skin, when Edward was stuck fumbling with the stupid drapey cape taking up half the couch?!
He slid his fingers under the mask, pushing it back from Batman's face and burying his hands in his hair. It was dark, flattened unflatteringly by the pressure of the cowl, until Edward scratched and pulled at it, revealing messy curls. Much better.
Batman bit at his neck harshly. "Hands off."
"Wanna touch you!" Edward squirmed. The pressure of his teeth only increased with the argument, to a thrillingly painful degree. "Stupid cape in the way!"
Batman seemed to agree, sliding the cape and cowl up over his head, tossing it to the floor in a pile of fabric. The top went next, the bat symbol across his incredible tits smushing and wrinkling and finally giving way. The pecs gave a little bounce as Batman tossed the costume aside, leaving him in only his pants and, therefore, more naked than Edward.
Edward rushed to join him.
"You have to promise-" Batman grunted, finishing off the last button of the vest for him while he was working at his tie- "This stays between us."
Edward snorted. The tie slithered free, and he shucked it and the vest one after another. "Sorry, but I'm gonna be bragging about this one for years. You'll never live it down."
"Please," Batman begged. "No one can know that I'm-"
Edward glanced up, catching his expression. It was twisted with worry, as gorgeous as he'd always imagined, and terribly familiar. "-Bruce Wayne."
"Yeah. That."
Edward's head was too fuzzy. It seemed both like an intensely important revelation, and the least important thing happening right now. "I'll keep any secret you want me to, if you'll promise me another round."
Batman's hands slipped up his sides, pushing his shirt up with them. "That's all?"
Edward hastily freed the two top buttons, allowing Bruce fucking Wayne to undress him. "I can get more than one?"
"I'd fuck you to death if it kept your mouth shut," Batman promised.
"Ooh, please do." Edward's hands found his hair again, burying into his curls. "Can't take it back. That's how I wanna go. Crushed between these thighs."
The thighs squeezed in response. Edward was pulled against the Bat-tights and their… dick armor… thing. Whatever it was- codpiece, that's the word!- it was keeping him from feeling out just how good a deal he was getting with this promised unlimited-hush-sex. The girls often joked that it must be tiny, steroid-shrunk and pathetic. He's gotta be compensatin', Harleen insisted. Selina had gotten defensive. Mine's definitely bigger, Pamela had purred, eliciting a giggle from Harley, but I dunno about Eddie. It'd be a shame, wouldn't it? All this work to get at it, and it's pathetic?
He'd argued that that hadn't been his goal, not now, not ever, but it seemed the joke was on him, now, wasn't it? The Bat had fallen into his lap, quite literally, and he'd leapt at the chance, also quite literally. He'd have to thank Pam for the opportunity. But only if the Bat was big. He was sure the Bat would be big.
A cold finger pressed into his ass, and he yelped.
"Sorry," Batman laughed, not sounding particularly apologetic. He stroked at Edward's hip comfortingly, other hand still working its way into his body.
Edward shivered. His pants had disappeared, leaving him with a chill. "Don't you dare apologize. Keep going, you have to, or I'll kill you, I swear I will-"
His rambling cut off into a long whine. Batman had obliged him, sliding a second well-lubed finger beside the first and picking up speed.
"You- ah!- you don't keep lube in that utility belt, do you?"
The corner of his smile tightened. A pity. Bruce had such a pretty smile… "A joke in bad taste. I meant to take it out… glad I didn't, now."
Edward agreed heartily. He sought Batman's lips again, whining into his mouth while he was coaxed open, sucking on his tongue and biting his lip 'til he bled. He loved seeing Batman bleed. Batman returned the favor enthusiastically, too, Edward's lips and jaw stinging something terrible, the combined rush of sensation driving him insane.
"This is taking too long," he groaned.
"Ready for more?" Batman hesitated, a third finger pressed to the stretched rim.
Edward shoved a hand between them, sliding aggressively into the stupid Bat-pants. "Beyond ready. Get in me, already!"
With a mad scramble that left Edward distressingly empty but Bruce excitingly nude, the tights were tossed aside and the main event revealed.
"In your face, Pamela!" Edward cheered. It was big! He knew it! Oh, she'd pay big time for making him doubt it! "Woo!"
"Uh, what-?"
Edward launched himself into that sturdy chest again, knocking him onto his back, with Edward in the position of control astride his hips. Even as deep as this couch was, luxurious and roomy, Batman took up most of it at this angle. He was huge, broad, and Edward's hands roamed everywhere he could reach, fingers sinking in until the muscle flexed beneath them.
Batman took the initiative, leaving Edward to his exploring, gripping him by the hips firmly enough to bruise and guiding him, slowly, to sink onto the thick cock that he was- oh- that he'd been maybe premature in demanding.
"Do you need to take it slow?"
The question alerted Edward to the strained noise escaping him, the way his nails were digging into scars across Batman's chest. He shook his head firmly, pushing Bruce's hands away and seating himself decisively. It burned, fuck, did it burn, but the boiling heat cooking his brain egged him on, rocking shallowly on the formidible cock until it moved from just on the wrong side of too much to just the right side.
Bruce let out a slow sigh, his head tipping back, his hands returning to their posts on Edward's hips and massaging loose circles in time with his bouncing.
"You don't have to hold back on my account," Edward teased.
"No, I do."
The firmness of the statement startled him. "And why is that? Scared you'll break me?"
Batman met his eye with a fiery intensity, of the kind he often had when closing in on the fight. It sent a thrill through him, being on the receiving end of that look. The twitch in his cock was at least appropriate to the situation, this time.
"No. I'm not scared I will. I know I will."
Strong hands dug back into the same bruises, cementing them. His hips would be purpling within a couple days. He already couldn't wait, imagining pressing into those bruises as he fingered himself thoroughly. He prayed Ivy's weird ooze didn't have memory-ruining properties. He wanted every moment of this burned into his skull.
"Do it," he goaded. He tightened around Bruce's shaft, rolling his hips enticingly. "Break me."
It didn't take long for Batman to drive his mind entirely blank, after that. He surged up, thrusting deep and fast as a piston, knocking the air from Edward's lungs and then going harder. His iron grip trapped Edward in place, forced to take what Batman had to give, while Bruce bit harsh circles into his collarbones. Edward's climax took him entirely by surprise, despite feeling at the edge of it for the last… however long it had been, the sudden shift forcing it out of him at long last like Bruce had simply flipped a switch and finished him off, just like that. He cried out, shouting into Batman's ample chest, but the pace didn't break, didn't so much as slow. By the time he showed any sign of taking a rest, Edward had already been forced into a second climax, and was openly crying into his neck.
Bruce kissed him slowly, then, pressing soft lips to each cheek, rubbing soothing lines down his sides, waiting patiently for the shaking to subside, before flipping their positions, folding Edward nearly in half beneath him, a hand behind each knee.
"W-wait, slow down-!" Edward pleaded. He felt wrung out and raw as an exposed nerve. He could feel himself still twitching.
"You sure? This is what you asked for," Batman reminded him. A hand stroked along his poor, overstimulated dick, and he was terrified to find it was still hard.
"No, I'm not sure!" Edward wailed, batting the hand away. It was too much, too too much by far. "Shit. Fuck me, okay? Fuck me!"
And he did.
The third orgasm had him babbling out a love confession.
The fourth had him cursing Batman, everything he stood for, and especially his dick.
They moved to the bed for the sixth, though the fifth was against the wall on the way there, the hideout he'd always thought was so cramped proving an enormous gulf of space when they were drunk out of their minds on Ivy goop and oxy…. cotton? Oxytoxin? Good feel hormone, whatever. The point was Bruce carried him over to his own bed, cock buried in him the whole way, and had pounded him into the wall so hard he'd been shocked to not see an imprint of his own ass left behind.
The seventh spurred a second round of love confessions, these mumbled and sleepy, and Bruce had let him pass out without an eighth.
-
He came to, later, with a pounding migraine and aches in muscles he couldn't name. His head felt oceans clearer, like the Incident had been a hazy dream, though the Batsuit bits littering his floor and the bulky body warming his bed suggested otherwise.
God. He'd need to stand, eventually. Being up before Batman gave him time to flee, if he could seize it. Just needed to stand up, put on some pants, make it out the crawlspace and onto the city streets above.
Jesus, that would take so much moving. He could cry just at the thought of it.
With a last glance at the body beside him, checking the movement of his chest to ensure he was, indeed, sleeping, Edward slipped out of the bed. He hissed, knees nearly failing to take his weight, and he half-fell towards the laundry bin, spying a pair of minty green boxers he was fond of. They should be soft enough, yeah? He doubted anything would feel nice today, but he'd be satisfied with at least not deeply unpleasant-
"What time is it?" Bruce groaned.
Damn. There went the window of opportunity. Edward snatched at the watch perched near his TV, squinting at its ticking hands. "It's 3."
"Really? Felt like much longer than a couple hours."
"Three in the afternoon, genius." Edward tossed the watch his way, mildly impressed to see him pluck it out of the air neatly.
Bruce looked somewhat panicked, moreso when he confirmed Edward's veracity. "Shit. Alfred expected me home hours ago. Where's the cowl, I need-"
Edward managed to crawl his way over to the couch before Bruce made it upright, his legs twisted as they were in the bedsheets, tripping him ungracefully. He raised the mask in offering. Bruce held his hands out like he would catch it, giving an encouraging just toss it gesture.
"Bruce, please. The cape weighs, like 20 pounds by itself. Easily."
"Only fifteen. Go on, it can take an impact."
Edward rolled his eyes, balling up the whole kit-and-kaboodle and flinging it Bruce-ward. It landed several feet short, as he expected it would. It wasn't exactly a tossable weight. Damn vigilantes and their enormous muscles. 'Only' fifteen, he said.
Bruce scooped the cowl from the floor, groaning loudly as he stood again, hand pressed to his lower back. Edward would have felt smug, had he not been laying now on the plush rug, back flat to the soft fibers and spine no longer screaming at him.
"Alfred? Come in, Alfred. Is anyone there? Dick? Barbara? Hello?"
A crackle of a voice came through the earpiece. Curious, Edward crawled his way over. Bruce sat heavily onto the mattress, and Edward hefted himself up behind, leaning against him affectionately. Bruce's hand found his hair, absentmindedly scratching at it, and didn't push him away.
"Yeah, Alfred, it's me. I'm fine. All in one piece."
"Oh, thank Heavens," came the accented voice from the other end. "What happened? Where have you been?"
"Your butler?" Edward hummed inquisitively.
Bruce shushed him. "An incident with some new formula of Ivy's. I'll want to test samples of it back at the cave."
"Poison Ivy? I was under the impression the villain you sought last night was the Riddler?"
"Villain?" Edward scoffed. "Rude."
Bruce shushed him again, more aggressively. "Yes, that's right. I was tracking a crime of Nygma's when we were both dosed with the poison. We've… found a solution to its effects, but can't know yet if it's only temporary."
"Ooh, you'd like for this solution to be temporary, wouldn't you? Insatiable beast that you are." Edward walked his fingers up Bruce's well-defined arms, plastering his chest to Bruce's back.
Bruce knocked the hand away. "Not now, Edward," he hissed.
"Oh, my. Is that the Riddler still with you now?"
"Yes. I… I ended up needing to sleep with- In his hideout. It was the safest place for both of us. No one else knows where it is, and only I received the clues to its location."
Edward snorted. Yeah, that was the only reason, huh? Bruce shot him a sharp glare, motioning for him to zip it. Edward sat back, waving him off lazily.
"Robin is on his way now, sir. We managed to pick up a weak signal from the suit, but were unable to pinpoint your location. If you give him an entrance-"
"No!" Bruce shouted, startling Edward into flinching away. He apologized with a big hand to his back, stroking the shoulderblade with his thumb. "I mean, that won't be necessary. I'll find my own way out and meet him at street level."
"Are you sure? Nygma can be a slippery fellow-" Here, Edward couldn't contain his snickering, and moved away so the comms wouldn't pick up the sound. He missed the end of the sentence, but could guess where it had been going.
"I'm sure. I can handle myself. Be home soon, Alfred. Sorry to worry you."
Aww, so the butler worried. That was sweet, in a weird way.
Still, Edward didn't appreciate the reminder that Batman was planning to slip immediately back into their usual pattern. Crime-punching-Arkham. Always the same. At least a comfortable afternoon cuddle before the cuffs went on? He'd said some pretty embarrassing things while high out of his mind on aphrodisiac goop, he was sure.
"Hey." Batman called. The bed dipped next to him, the looming figure caging him in with his bulky body to one side and thick arm behind. "Are you alright?"
"Fine," Edward bit out, tersely, all good humor gone.
"You sure? I know I'm hurting like I got hit by a bus."
Edward couldn't help the little huff of laughter. That smile was disarming by design, he knew, but that didn't make it any less effective. "Well, yes, I'm aching everywhere, and a headache on top, but I'm… I'd really appreciate if you got to the point. I don't need to be buttered up."
"Alright, then," Bruce sighed, leaning back. It gave Edward room to breathe, but he almost missed the radiating warmth. "I'll just get to it. I'm taking the prototype back to Wayne Enterprises."
"I'd assumed. It was going to be spectacular, you know. I had a whole plan. Ruined, now, without that party to complete the pun, but it would have been so clever."
"I'm sure. Your puzzles are always tricky."
The compliment made him flush. He was sure he was pink down to his collarbones. Embarrassing.
"As for you…" Here it comes… "I assume you were planning to get a new hideout, weren't you? That's why you led me here, after all, isn't it?"
That… wasn't the direction he was expecting. "Yes. That was the plan, anyway."
"Well… do or don't, just let me know where you'll be? So I can hold up my end of our deal."
Edward stared at him. "It sounds a lot like you're letting me go."
Bruce shrugged. "As long as no one gets hurt… I can let some things slide."
"And… why would you do that, exactly? Not that I want to appear ungrateful, of course, but…"
Bruce wet his lips. They were so pink, swollen slightly around the few little cuts Edward had bit into them. "I have reason to stay on your good side."
"Ah." Edward glanced away. Stupid to get his hopes up. "I'm keeping your secret now. Of course, of course. You can trust I'm a man of my word, no need to worry-"
"Well, that too, but…" A hand worried at his hair. It was ruined enough already from the past hours' activity, and the rubbing only made it worse. Edward longed to pet through it, smoothing it back to its usual pretty ringlets. "You said… a lot of things. I don't know if you meant them, but… I don't want to be the reason people get hurt. If treating you more kindly helps people, or even only you, then I want to treat you more kindly."
Ah. He had said those things, then. "I don't want your pity."
"It's not pity-"
"Take the generator. I'll send you clues to my location when I'm ready for you."
Bruce deflated. He collected the parts of his costume slowly, wrapping the contaminated pieces in the sturdy fabric of the cape, and the E.M.P. in alongside them. He walked right on out, clad only in boxers, not swinging a single punch or jangling a single handcuff, and the exit clicked shut with Edward still inside.
---
Edward was practically skipping as he sauntered into the Sirens' little headquarters, a spring in his step after Bruce's most recent hush payment, and flaunting a brand new pair of shoes purchased with the modest amount he'd stolen from the G.C.P.D. evidence lockup (without Batman's intervention, despite the invitation he'd sent).
His cheery entrance caught Pamela swinging in a little leaf hammock and reading a novel. She looked quite comfortable there, contented and relaxed. Edward loved to ruin contented and relaxed.
"A book, eh? Would think a tree-lover like you would condemn the waste," he taunted.
Vines snapped up from the floorboards, rooting him in place and straining his arms over his head.
She turned the page, read for a few more moments, then slotted a cutesy pink unicorn bookmark between the pages. "Eddie. You're still alive." The book snapped shut, and her inhuman eyes shifted focus to her uninvited guest. "A pity. I'd hoped the serum would have killed you. How was he, then? Satisfying?"
"Oh, um." This wasn't really how he planned the exchange to go. "Would it? Have killed me, I mean?"
"That's how it functions, yes." She rolled her eyes, like it should have been obvious. "Without a little help, it would have brought your internal temperature up high enough to initiate neuron death. Seems like you avoided that outcome, though, so well done."
"Thank- uh, thank you? I think?" The vines slipped away, freeing him. He rubbed at his wrists. "It was- it was good, actually. I just wanted to, uh, make sure… this makes us even? Yes? No more… surprises?"
Pamela hummed, tapping her crimson nails to her chin, regarding him carefully. "It wasn't much of a punishment, though, if you enjoyed yourself too much. On the other hand, I know how nasty of side effects my test subject showed, so perhaps it was suitable, after all. Do you feel it was?"
"Oh, definitely," Edward readily agreed. "Like an absolute nightmare, when it wore off. Nothing worse in the world. Definitely even, I would say."
"Hmm…" She cocked her head, considering. "No, I don't think that's quite true. You seemed far too happy to see me, after all."
"Pam-!"
"I'll take it when I take it. Keep your eyes open. Now, get out before Selina gets back. If she sees you here alive, she'll just burn with jealousy."
A snapping flytrap sprouted at his feet, forcing him back, and more of them popped up to chase until he was finally expelled from the building, a series of vines sealing the entrance he'd used.
He stood up, dusted himself off, and strolled away. The bragging could wait for another time. Or, perhaps, for better company. He had a number of friends, after all, and at least Harleen would be eager for details.
Or… maybe it was a sign to keep it all to himself.